


A man for a lifetime, a king for a day

by solarfemm



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kissing, M/M, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 10:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarfemm/pseuds/solarfemm
Summary: Bucky’s never been overseas before, and if it wasn’t for what he knows is waiting for him when he gets over there, he would welcome it.





	A man for a lifetime, a king for a day

**Author's Note:**

> This was a gift for Sonmi, who prompted: 
> 
> "during WWII American soldiers went to some small towns in England to finish their training before going to the field and stayed at local families houses. stevebucky, one of them is the soldier and the other one the host that for some reason cannot enlist. and they obviously kind of fall in love but it's complicated bc the other one is going away to the combat field."
> 
> I spent too much time setting the scene and not enough time on the falling in love so I'm sorry! Maybe I'll come back to it one day.
> 
> Also... I made a bunch of shit up okay I couldn’t find any information on American soldiers training in small towns in England, I don’t know if Catterick is a small town but it had an Infantry Training Centre so please, suspend your disbelief as far as you can, leave it hanging on a wire out to dry, it will not come back

Bucky’s never been overseas before, and if it wasn’t for what he knows is waiting for him when he gets over there, he would welcome it. The anticipation of war sits heavy in his gut as he and 15,000 other troops sail out of New York, knowing he won’t be back for years if he’s lucky, months or weeks if he’s not. If he’s carried back in a coffin, well, so be it. The trip over there is bad, weeks of the gruel they serve up, cramped on a ship that seems destined to float forever or get pulled into the water, and he thinks this is really it, this is how he’s going to die: surrounded by water and wishing for home. 

England itself, when he finally gets there, when his feet finally hit land, is overcast and cold as hell, but he doesn’t get to savor the coast before he’s shuttled on a bus to where he’ll be staying while he completes his training. The bus bumps along while the other soldiers sing “White Cliffs Of Dover”, the noise pounding in Bucky’s ears and worsening the headache he’s had for days. It’s not until they stop in Catterick and he gets to breathe the fresh air again that it hits him that this is his life now. That girl Betty Rourke waiting for him at home—she might not like him when he gets back, if she’ll even wait that long. He’s here until the war gets won, and who knows when that’ll be? Could be years. Could be the rest of his life.

His host family is waiting for him when he steps off the bus, a couple only ten years older than himself, name of Sandra and Olly Rogers. They walk him through the town that’s seen better days, passing people who wave and make polite, cheery conversation. Bucky expected more of a dour mood, considering the country has been at war for three years, but the people are nice, generous with their laughter, and the Rogers are kind for taking him in when everyone is on rations. Once he puts his bag in the room Sandra leads him to, and he joins them for a meal of fish, wholemeal bread, and vegetables that taste better than anything Bucky had at home, now that he’s living on his own and not out off his parents’ dime.

“We grow our own vegetables,” Olly says, as Sandra pours them tea. 

Bucky nods, swallows enough to say, “They taste fantastic, sir.”

“We’ve been thinking of having some chickens,” Sandra says. They have different accents, both equally hard for Bucky to understand. “But who knows if we could afford them?”

“Everything’s been rationed now.”

“That must be tough,” Bucky says, trying not to shovel roast potato in his mouth. He tries to think of something else to say that doesn’t show how sheltered he’s been, before the front door opens.

“Oh, that must be Steve.” Sandra brightens up, stands to welcome him in. “Orright, Steve?”

Steve is a man about Bucky’s age, but significantly shorter. He’s bundled up in a thick overcoat, scarf and gloves, and Bucky doesn’t get a good look at his face until Steve takes them off. He’s flushed pink from the cold, and Bucky tries not to stare. 

“Steve, this is Private Barnes.”

Bucky stands with his hand out to shake, and Steve looks at him with humour in his eyes before he takes it. “Bucky.”

“Steve.” Steve’s hand is cold but his grip is firm. 

They both sit and Bucky continues eating, aware of Steve’s eyes on him. Bucky knows he’s good looking, has been propositioned by men and women alike, but he suspects that’s not why Steve is staring at him. He finishes his meal quickly, wanting to get away from that piercing stare. 

He has the day to acclimatize to his surroundings before he continues training tomorrow, so he wants to make the most of it. He’s got a restless spirit, keyed up after hardly any exercise for weeks. He’s unpacking his things in the bedroom that’ll be his for the next few weeks when someone knocks on his door.

Bucky turns around to find Steve looking at him with that intense curiosity. He suddenly feels caught out, as if he’s been doing something he shouldn’t have. “Uh, hi. This wasn’t your room, was it? I, uh, didn’t kick you out or anything?”

Steve shakes his head. He’s leaning against the doorframe with ease, thumbs slipped through his suspenders. “So you’re American, huh?”

The accent hits Bucky, and a sense of relief washes over him. “You’re American too?”

“Yep, born in Brooklyn. Moved over here when I was a teen due to health problems. Sandra and Olly are my aunt and uncle.”

“Oh. That makes sense. They’re too young to have a 20 year old.”

“Twenty-five, actually.”

Bucky grins, his feeling out of place eased somewhat. Steve’s still looking at him, and Bucky feels himself blush. He’s used to scrutiny, but Steve wants something from him, and Bucky doesn’t know what. Then Steve’s eyes rake over his whole body, and Bucky knows. 

Electricity crackles in the air as Steve steps into the room, closing the door behind him, and Bucky feels his body move without his permission, gravitating towards Steve, hand coming up to cup his cheek as Steve pulls him down by his shirt collar. Bucky hasn’t felt this in a long time, this need, this want, has only ever had it fooling around with guys as a teen before he grew out of that, but here he is, kissing a guy in fucking Yorkshire of all places, gasping as he takes a breath before kissing Steve again. 

“You done this before?” Bucky asks, leaning down across Steve’s jaw, put hands on his skinny chest and feel his heart beating like hummingbird wings. 

Steve snorts. “Yeah, you?”

Bucky pulls back to shake his head. “Not like this.” Steve pulls him into another kiss, and it’s frantic and messy and Bucky sinks into it.


End file.
